by C. A. Szarek
“Aye, lad, that we do.” He nodded and swallowed a sigh. “Murdoch and I agree they haven’t a clue where to look next. I want her to stay here. I want Lucan to cover her in magic. Safer than my own mages can make her. Whatever he has to do so she can remain concealed here and still meet her suitors.”
“It’ll be done, Your Highness.” Jorrin made a tight fist.
“The Terraquist death was different from the others.”
“How so?” Tristan’s posture mimicked the duke’s, but his forearms were tight to the wooden arms.
He informed them of her birthmark, and that the last lass had her clothing ripped open.
Nathal was glad there was no protest to what he needed from young Lucan. Elissa would be safe in Greenwald. And welcome.
“I hated to do it, because he can be sensitive, and he’s so young, but I had Lucan go over the cottage of the girl killed in Greenwald. The holding isn’t far from Terraquist borders. He didn’t sense much as far as magic, which alarmed me, because as you know, the boy is good.” The duke’s expression was tight, pained.
Nathal cursed and shook his head. He’d been hoping for more information. “Nothing?”
“He sensed residual spells, but nothing he could name specifically. Nothing that could lead us directly to the killers. I want to take Avery there, since he’s coming to meet Lady Elissa, anyway. He has a keen sense of his own, even if his magic isn’t as strong as Lucan’s.”
“Good idea. I want Rory and Edana to go, too. Perhaps they should converse with Lucan, as well.”
“Of course.” Jorrin nodded.
“Where on my borders, lads?” Nathal asked.
“About an hour northwest of the Durroc holding.” Leargan’s dark brow tightened even more when Nathal cursed.
“That close to her former home? That close to Terraquist?” Damn, he’d been hoping there wasn’t a rhyme or reason to the locations they’d selected. What if they were following a mapped pattern?
Could they know where she’d gone?
Nay. Magic still protects her.
Nathal couldn’t afford to doubt. Not now. He had a plan. Needed to stick to it.
“Aye,” Tristan said. “We spoke to the caretaker, Master Uncel, but he’d seen no one, and Lucan reinforced the spells on the castle itself. It should keep people out, as designed.”
“Good.”
“The property will be deeded to her husband, will it not?” Jorrin asked, head cocked to one side.
“As a part of her dowry, aye. I was hoping whoever she chooses will make no changes, and continue to pay the salary of the caretakers. I won’t order such, but I’ll encourage it.” Nathal quirked one corner of his mouth. His order may have to come disguised. “The crops have proven profitable for Elissa, as well as the farmers.”
“Aye, unless they cared to live in it.”
Nathal nodded. “I’d considered that. I’ll still discourage it, at least until we apprehend the killers. However, I could see Lakyn Gallard making that choice. He could start his own horse breeding farm; there is adequate land. I wouldn’t complain about that kind of stock closer to home.” He smiled when Jorrin and Leargan nodded. The finest horses were bred in South Ascova, by the young lord’s father, Roald. “The others have their own lands and castles, especially Avery and Camden. What Audon Croly stands to inherit is much larger than the Durroc holding. I hope it matters not. I hope she chooses Dalunas.”
The duke smirked. “Then why give her a choice, Your Highness?”
“I cannot force marriage on her.”
Leargan snorted and muttered something that sounded like, “Meddling.”
Nathal let it go, but arched an eyebrow when his gaze collided with the captain’s. Leargan squared his shoulders and schooled his expression. Nathal bit back a smile.
“Do you know who we’re dealing with?” the duke asked.
“Unfortunately, nay. We’ve tried for turns to ascertain a name. All I know is when my mages went over the holding they sensed something of another elemental mage. Strong, almost as much as Elissa.”
“Elementals who can control all four are rare,” Tristan mused.
“Aye, that they are lad. Whoever it is, Elissa bested him at barely two turns old.”
“Her instinct saved her life?” Jorrin asked.
“Aye, that’s what we’ve always assumed. There’s no turning back time, but I wish Rory and Edana had been there, in the aftermath. I might know more now.” The half-elfin twins weren’t but two turns older than his wife’s cousin, and hadn’t come to him until about ten turns before. They’d been street children he’d rescued. Thank the Blessed Spirit they’d chosen to stay as two of his Mages.
“Perhaps if they put their heads together with Lucan, we’ll discover who we need to kill.” Leargan’s expression darkened. “Five children murdered, not to mention their parents. It’s unconscionable.” The captain flexed his hand on the hilt of his sword.
Nathal nodded. Now that Leargan was a father, it probably hit home harder than before. “I ensured they all had proper burials and had the home cleansed. I placed a good man to hold the farm until kin arrives to take over. Paxton Gallard similarly handled the murders in his Province.” He steepled his hands on top of the duke’s desk and sighed. “How is the family of the Greenwald lass?”
Jorrin scowled. “Troublesome.”
He frowned. “How so?”
Tristan shook his head as he answered. “Two of the lass’ uncles are squabbling over the land. It’s a sizable parcel, and the husband had no blood kin. They demanded an audience. Jorrin complied. While they were here, someone torched the stables and killed several horses. The uncles are blaming each other.”
“Naturally.” Nathal sighed.
“We’ve sent men to help rebuild, as well as half a dozen soldiers to post there. Two of the guard, Dallon and Kale, spent several days there, but I’ve no time to play nursemaid, any more than you do, Majesty,” Leargan said. “I refuse to spare knights for a squabble.”
“This is all my fault,” Nathal said. He didn’t miss the look Jorrin and Tristan exchanged.
“Nay, Your Highness,” Leargan said.
Nathal cast his eyes to the ceiling and took a fortifying breath. “It is. If I would’ve caught whoever was after Elissa when she was still a child, I could’ve prevented the death of three young families, as well as the aftermath of a fight over lands.” He made eye contact with the young duke. “Quash it, Jorrin. Now. I won’t order the how, but small problems can get out of hand.”
He didn’t mention the battle of North and South Ascova from more than twenty turns before, but from the looks on their faces, he didn’t have to. They were too young to remember living the rebellion, of course, but they were all well-read young men. Leargan was one of the victims of the war that split one Province into two. He’d been orphaned, like so many other lads.
“Yes, Your Majesty. I placed a man to hold the property for the time being, and I’ve told the uncles they must prove to me they can make the land prosper. They were given two sevendays to present their plans,” Jorrin said.
“Good start. If there’s backlash by whoever doesn’t succeed and you need assistance, let me know.”
“I will. Thank you. I’ve told them I’ll auction the lands off if neither of them prove adequate.”
Nathal smiled. “Good. Perhaps fearing it’ll go out of the family will be the correct motivator.”
“I hope so. Aside from the horses, no one has been killed, but fighting has left injuries and more tension. I told them I won’t have it. Even threatened Dread Valley.”
“Ah. I trust that received the appropriate reaction?”
Leargan grinned. “Pale as ghosts.”
“Good.”
The penal colony on Nathal’s continent was far away, on the southeastern tip of the Province of Dalunas, and it was far from pleasant. People worked through their sentences if they were lucky—and died if they weren’t. He trusted the provost he’d plac
ed to oversee it, but allowed the rumors of despair to spread as a deterrent if nothing else. “She’ll need a guard. Someone to watch over her, despite the magic I need Lucan to work.”
Leargan nodded. “One of the personal guard would be best.”
“Aye.” Nathal nodded.
“Alasdair will do well. He’s been training men-at-arms for the last several months, and I’m sure a change in duties could benefit him.”
Nathal arched an eyebrow. “Alas? Training? He’s got to be bored out of his mind.” The man had always been the front-of-the-line type knight. Draw his sword, rush in, and ask questions later. Reckless, but damn good.
Alasdair loved the opposite sex, and they adored him just as much, but the lad had the appropriate decorum to look after a noble lass. He was charming, too. Probably had more than his fair amount, but Alasdair Kearney was a good man.
Leargan laughed. “I think he enjoys working with the lads and Roduch on the sword, but aye, bored. However, he does his duty, well and without question.”
“As it should be.”
“Will Alasdair be adequate to guard Lady Elissa?” Leargan asked.
“Aye, ‘tis fine with me. What say you, Lord Aldern?”
The duke shrugged. “He’ll keep her safe, but I don’t think he’ll enjoy playing chaperon with the suitors.”
“Well, he won’t be jealous.” Nathal laughed.
Leargan grinned. “Not at all. He was trying to talk Roduch out of the permanence of marriage when I found them in the bailey.”
He chuckled. “Poor Alas. He doesn’t know what he’s missing.”
“Don’t ask him. If you do, you probably won’t like the answer.” Jorrin winked.
“Ah, my dear lad. I’ve known Sir Alasdair Kearney since he was a wee sapling of eleven. I know he’s got a list of lasses as long as I am tall.”
They all laughed and Jorrin shook his head.
The king stood, and the lords followed suit. “Well, lads, we’ve a wedding to get to. Leargan, you’ll brief Alasdair?”
“Aye, Majesty.”
“Well, let’s do our best to enjoy this day, for the sake of Roduch and his lass. Just don’t lose sight of the danger to Elissa. I’ll speak with Lucan, and we can plan to ride out to Castle Durroc tomorrow.”
The duke and his men nodded as they left the ledger room.
Nathal sighed and prayed to the Blessed Spirit everything went as planned.
Chapter Five
“Fine day for a wedding, is it not?”
The rich feminine voice washed over him. Alasdair could hear the smile in her words. He bowed with extra flourish for his queen. “I was just saying that, not ten minutes before, to the groom himself.”
Queen Morghyn beamed, a twinkle in her dark eyes. “It is good to see you, Sir Kearney.”
“You as well, Your Majesty. You look radiant beyond words, as usual.”
She laughed. “Still a charmer, I see.”
Alasdair flashed a cheeky grin and allowed the queen to take his hands. Never would he have reached for her. She was royal, and despite his scamp tendencies—even at his age of one and thirty—he respected her. Liked her. He had decorum. And a healthy dose of fear of her husband, too. He’d seen his king on many a battlefield. The man was fiercely protective of women in general, but especially those he cared about.
She squeezed his hands with great affection that had him returning the gesture.
Her burnished gold gown was a complement to her fair complexion as well as one of the colors of the king’s Province, Terraquist.
Queen Morghyn wore a royal blue sash from shoulder to slender waist, denoting the other color of Terraquist, as well as her rank. No crown graced her head at the moment, but the queen’s hair was ornately braided and arranged up. It only enhanced her beauty. She’d always been a stunner with pale flaxen locks and dark dark brown eyes. Time wasn’t touching her appeal.
“Are you well, my dear Alasdair? Happy in Greenwald?” The questions caught him off-guard, but shouldn’t have.
She’d seen him as an orphaned lad of eleven, bastard of a minor lord dropped off at Castle Rowan’s gates in Terraquist to be accepted as a page or left to fend for himself in the harsh streets of the city center—either would have been acceptable to his guardian. The first cousin who’d inherited his father’s holding cared nothing for the lord’s unofficial child.
Alasdair’s mother had been a maid in the household and had died birthing him. His father had kept him, but was indifferent, if anything. He’d been a servant, like the woman who’d given her life for his. His father had had no other children—including bastards. He knew no one of his bloodline, and carried his mother’s surname instead of his father’s.
Still, he often thanked the Blessed Spirit for King Nathal seeing his value and raising him as a knight—and not giving a rat’s arse about his parentage.
“I am, Your Majesty. I’ve come to love Greenwald as I do Terraquist. Lord Aldern is a good man to back, and as always, I have my brothers.” The twelve knights of the personal guard, including himself, didn’t share his blood, but they were his brothers. Always. “Are you well?”
She smiled and nodded. “I am. Thank you for asking.” The queen released Alasdair’s hands, and gestured to the lass standing next to her. “Do you remember my cousin, Lady Elissa Durroc?”
He’d seen the lass trailing the royal when they’d crossed the great hall, of course, but he’d assumed she was an attendant. Queen Morghyn didn’t travel often, and it made sense she’d bring her ladies, even for the short trip of Roduch and Avril’s wedding.
Alasdair’s intended polite smile stalled and he had to swallow hard instead when he glanced at the lass. He blinked. He might’ve remembered the name—it triggered a tease in the back of his mind. But he couldn’t recall the vision before him. He would’ve remembered her.
Gorgeous was too weak a word.
Her gown was blue. A few shades lighter than Terraquist-blue and low-cut, but not enough to do more than hint at cleavage. The bodice had red roses embroidered on it and was just the right amount of tight. The bottom of the dress billowed out to only hint at a perfect waist and rounded hips instinct told him would be just as perfect.
Unlike Queen Morghyn, the lass’s fair hair was free from restraint, flowing around her body. It hung to her waist, and she a blue ribbon headband on that matched her dress.
“Hello, Sir Kearney.” She inclined her head and met his eyes.
He had to clear his throat. Her sultry voice was like a caress and his thoughts scattered.
Just how she should sound.
A tremor shot down his spine and Alasdair chided himself.
Her coloring, as well as heart shaped face with high cheekbones, marked her as kin to Queen Morghyn even if he hadn’t been told, but her eyes were hazel. The perfect mix of light brown, green and even—Blessed Spirit help him—gold flecks.
She was looking at him expectantly.
Why?
Ah…she’d greeted him, hadn’t she?
Speak, idiot, lest she think you daft!
Alasdair cleared his throat—again—and bowed with just as much of a flourish he’d presented for his queen. “Nice to see you again, my lady.”
Her face was stained an adorable shade of pink when their gazes met again, but he fought the urge to shift in his boots.
The traitor below his belt was interested in her suddenly—something he didn’t need. Alasdair might be loose with his favors as his brothers teased—but he’d never touched a lass of nobility—let alone the queen’s cousin.
Wasn’t about to start, either.
She was no doubt innocent, which doubly crossed her off his list.
“Sir Alasdair Kearney!” King Nathal boomed from across the hall. Saving him. The king closed the distance to between him and the ladies with only a few long strides.
“Hello, Your Highness.” Alasdair bowed.
King Nathal buffeted the back of his shoulder and beamed.
Alasdair grinned, rocking in his boots so he wouldn’t embarrass himself and keel over. Boisterous as always, the king was a big man, and the tap was more of a pounding.
“Good to see you, lad.”
“You too, Majesty.” He nodded, meeting his king’s pale blue eyes.
“I see you’ve greeted my ladies. You better not have used your charms on my wife.” King Nathal flashed a mock-stern glare along with his growl.
Queen Morghyn laughed and patted her husband’s decorative Terraquist-blue doublet, right over his heart. “No one could steal me away from you, my love. Not in form or affection.” She gazed up at her man.
The king looked down, softness in his expression that made Alasdair feel like an intruder.
Lady Elissa swayed in her pretty slippers, as if she felt it, too.
His eyes locked onto her hazel ones against his will. Looking at her wouldn’t help his forbidden interest, especially since he couldn’t help but notice the green and gold flecks in her gaze.
She smiled. It was just a slight curve of her lips, but it was all for him.
Alasdair’s gut clenched. He needed to go. Maybe Roduch needed his help. Or Leargan. Was it time to line up?
But there he stood, locked onto the lass, and she on him.
The king spoke, breaking the spell. “Shall we go out to the bailey? The ceremony won’t be long now. Seats are ours for the taking.” He lifted his arm for his wife.
Queen Morghyn smiled and tucked herself close to her husband, but she looked at Alasdair. “Will you escort my cousin, Alas?”
Lady Elissa looked at him.
He forced a nod. “Aye, of course.” Alasdair offered his arm, trying not to gawk at the delicate hand that slid into the crook of his elbow.
A bolt of energy shot into his biceps and he almost jumped. Through layers of fabric, he could feel her touch. He imagined how it would be to have her hands on his bare skin—then promptly banished the ludicrous idea.
“Thank you.” Those hazel eyes bored into him, like before.
He lost the battle with trying not to fidget. His armor felt too small, as did his skin. Straightening his spine didn’t help the constriction in his chest. Alasdair forced a nod and a smile.